Earth Angel
by Evelyn Raith
Summary: Set immediately after the Season 8 Finale. Castiel is hopeless, hapless and human. He decides it's best not to seek out the Winchesters, and runs into another in the same situation. How will Castiel adapt to humanity without Sam and Dean to guide him?
1. Chapter 1

Castiel stood alone in the night, watching the angels fall from the skies. As they fell, the only thing he could find hope for in bearing witness was that there were still so many left. So many of them, falling from the skies, falling to earth, trapped in their human hosts. Just like him, they would be mortal. Just like him, they would be lost.

Castiel looked down at himself, at his hands. Turning them around and making a fist. This was all he had now, a frail human body that was quickly oxidizing. Then he put his hands in his pockets and pulled his coat tight around him. He was cold. The very idea annoyed him.

He looked back up at the now empty skies, searching for some sign that everything would be well. The skies were silent and dark, so he turned on his heel and headed towards the lights of a town off the edge of the woods where he had fallen.

It was only around 9pm when Castiel made it into town. It wasn't a big town, but he had stayed in smaller places with the Winchester's. There were probably 10,000 people and exactly one Wal-mart, which means they'd have a diner and a motel as well. He needed to find a place to get warm soon. He was fairly sure that his feet being so cold that he could no longer feel his toes wasn't exactly a good thing.

He had walked about a mile into town, when he found a Biggerson's. Standing outside on the sidewalk, he looked at the sign and couldn't decide if he should laugh or cry. He decided that he would just appreciate the irony of it, after all, Biggerson's had become like a home to him in the past weeks. It had kept him safe and warm, and right now he could use a bit of both.

He had fallen twice in the dark and his hands were scuffed up and his knees and coat where smeared with dark mud. He looked at his hands and tried to wipe them off on his coat, but the mud had caked and dried up.

As he peeked in through the window, he saw that the place was practically empty, just a few truck drivers and an old hobo in the far back corner. He opened the door and made for the bathroom quickly. Watching his pace, trying to be quick but not run, he didn't want to bring attention to himself like that, just hoping not to be seen.

Once the door shut behind him, he looked into the mirror. This was it. This was him now. All of him. He had seen this face in mirrors many times over the years since taking Jimmy Novak as a vessel. He had looked out through Jimmy's eyes for four years now. Why did those eyes look so sad now? Was that his emotion? Was he sad? Should he be?

He leaned onto the sink on his hands and let his head hang. This was his fault. He was too eager to trust, too eager to try to set things right. Too gullible… again. He met his own eyes again in the mirror and reached up to touch at the stubble on his face, smearing dark mud onto his cheek instead.

"Damn it." He muttered to himself and turned on the water. He let the water warm up and just let it run over his cold hands for a moment before he set to the task of washing them off. He cleaned up his face as best as he could and ran his wet hand through his dark hair, making it stand up at odd angles in a few places. He wet some paper towels down and tried to clean up his coat, shoes, and knees the best as he could for a five minute sink bath in a diner.

Standing back, he looked at himself again. He could feel his body aging already. Feel the effects of gravity and cell deterioration. He wondered if the sensations would lessen as time progressed. If he would stop noticing the rapid rate of decay of this human form as he settled into actually being human.

He took a deep breath and walked out of the men's room and into the diner to find a seat. He thought it wise to sit closer to the hobo. He would look less threatening in a dirty suit if he was sitting next to someone much dirtier.

He sat primly as the waitress approached. She did not have a pleasant demeanor about her and Castiel was wary that she may throw him out if he stepped out of line. He smoothed his hands through his damp hair again as she handed him a menu. "Let me guess, you want a coffee?"

Castiel looked up at her. "Yes, thank you." She stared at him a moment longer than normal so he added, "I have money."

'Marge', he read her name off her uniform, snorted at him, then turned on her heel and walked back to the kitchen. Castiel let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and took a quick look around before he pulled the wad of cash out of his pocket. It was the same sad, crumpled wad that he had tried to use to buy sundries and food for the Winchesters not so long ago.

His human heart ached. Was that normal? He tried to ignore it as he flattened out the bills to assess how much he had in the way of funds. It totaled up to $38. He knew that if he was very lucky, which was generally not the case this week, he could get a motel room with that money.

Almost as if on cue, his stomach growled. Yes, that left the problem of finding food. What was more important? Food, or warmth? He gathered the money together and wadded it back up in his pocket. Perhaps there was a bar in town with pool tables. He had learned the skills of hustling pool from Dean and Sam when they were bored in Arkansas for a week.

Tonight, he would settle for warmth.

As he came to that conclusion, the hobo had moved from his spot in the corner to sit at Castiel's table. He was dirty, his salt and pepper hair was matted and his beard had cake crumbs in it. Castiel wrinkled his nose at the smell, dear sweet Heaven, the smell! Castiel was about to tell the man to move on, that he didn't have funds to squander on the homeless because he _was_ the homeless. The hobo just winked at him and said, "Hey bro."

Castiel blinked. He leaned in and took a closer look at the warm, golden eyes set in the dirty face across from him. "Gabriel?"

"Hey Cas, rough night, huh?" Castiel had thought Gabriel to be dead, the Winchester's had told him that he gave his life trying to save the world from the Apocalypse, saving Sam and Dean in the process. Of course, Castiel had been dead more than once himself, so who was he to judge?

Before Castiel could mutter another word, Marge brought two mugs of thick coffee to the table. Muttered under her breath, "figures you two know each other," and walked back to the kitchen.

Gabriel began to pour sugar and creamers into his coffee, seemingly with no thoughts of stopping. Castiel had long forgotten his coffee. "How is this possible?" He asked.

Gabriel gave him a smirk of a grin. "Hellooooo, Trickster!" He picked up his cup of coffee flavored sugar and took a sip, set the mug back down and added more cream.

Was this a headache? Did he have a headache now? Human bodies were so constantly filled with pain, no wonder they often went mad.

"Do you still…" Castiel stumbled over the words, it was important and he felt the matter should be handled delicately, "are you still…?"

"An Archangel? Oh no, we've all had the door slammed in our faces." Gabriel sipped at his coffee and now seemed content with the confection he had created.

Castiel gestured in Gabriel's general direction. "So this is a new vessel?"

Gabriel smoothed down his beard. "What? This ol' thing? Nah, this is witch craft." He shrugged and smiled at Castiel again. "I had to go deep undercover after the Lucifer thing at The Elysian Fields. No mojo, had to switch to good old man made witch craft." He tapped his inner elbow a few times like he was some street junkie. "Good thing too, since now we're all cut off. I still have an edge."

Castiel finally picked up his coffee mug and took a sip, nearly burning his tongue. The irritation of humanity was coming off him in waves.

Gabriel frowned. "Where's your boyfriend? Is this his doing? All the clipped wings?"

With all his might, Castiel tried to burn a hole through his brother with just a look. "No, this is entirely my fault. I helped Metatron do this."

"Metatron!?" Gabriel gaped. "That sly dog! Guess he's still bitter about his demotion after Dad left." Gabriel's face drifted passive, "That boy could write the best dirty limericks…"

"Gabriel." Castiel brought his brother back to the conversation. "Metatron has locked us all out of Heaven and it's my fault."

Gabriel made a dismissive noise. "It's not your fault he's got a Napoleon complex." He took another sip from his mug. "So what's the plan? Team Winchester to the rescue again? Where are the boys? Some scummy motel in town?"

Castiel did not answer, he just hunched over his coffee and drank it down despite the burn of the hot liquid. He didn't meet Gabriel's eyes until his brother reached over the table and took his hand. "They're alive, right? I mean, those two are practically bullet proof, even without Dad stepping in to help them."

"I am assuming they lived, at least Dean. Sam was in a precarious position, but, as you said, they always seem to come out alive." Castiel pulled his hand away.

"Great! All we have to do is come up with a plan and find the Winchesters… "

"I can't." Castiel sighed.

"What do you mean, you can't?" Gabriel asked.

"I mean, I can't fight anymore. I can't go back to them, to Dean." There was that pain in his heart again.

"Bro, the Winchesters owe you, big time. No way would they turn you out into the cold!" Gabriel tried to get Castiel to meet his eyes, but he deftly avoided them. Gabriel started to ramble, "There's got to be a way to get through to Metatron, a way to reverse all of this, you know those stubborn boys would help you, heh, especially Dean, you know how sweet he is on you…"

Castiel cut him off with an angry hiss. "Since when are you a team player, Gabriel? Where have you been through all of this? Why did you never tell me about Naomi? Sam may be dead and I'm useless to help them now!" Castiel stood up abruptly, his voice rising. "I'm nothing more than… than… a baby in a trenchcoat!"

The few people in the diner were now staring at Castiel. "What's the matter?" He snapped at them, "Never seen a fallen angel before?"

Castiel turned on his heel and stomped out of the diner and back into the cold.

He had barely made it to the sidewalk when Gabriel caught up to him, looking like his old vessel again. He didn't say a word, he just stepped into line with his brother as they walked down the street. Castiel thought about walking faster, but Gabriel would just keep up with him, and though he wouldn't admit it to his brother, he really didn't want to be alone right now.

They walked in silence for a few blocks, before Gabriel tugged at Castiel's coat and nodded to a motel that boasted continental breakfast and $25 weekday rates. Castiel heaved a sigh and turned toward the office of the dingy place.

Gabriel tugged again at his arm and smiled. "I got this one. Wait here." Then he turned and jogged up to the door and into the office.

Castiel shifted from foot to foot, trying to will away the cold and wondering if he would ever feel his pinky toes again. Gabriel trotted out of the office with a key dangling in his hand and a smile on his face. Castiel stood still and watched him.

"Are you just going to stand there? Not smart enough to come in out of the cold yet?" Gabriel winked and turned to walk down the line of doors that would lead to the room he had just acquired for the night. A room that would potentially be warm, but would also be filled with Gabriel and his sudden optimism.

Castiel forced his feet to move, and followed his brother. Gabriel stopped at a door and waited for Castiel to catch up, then turned the key in the lock and opened it up.

It was the typical no-tell that motel the Winchester's would frequent, with the typical two beds and a kitchenette. It smelled of mold and old cigarettes but it was warmer than outside. Castiel walked to the closest bed and sat down on the end of it, leaning his elbows onto his knees.

Gabriel was spinning in the room like he was Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music. As if he was simply delighted to be surrounded by décor from 1978. "Not so bad, is it, Cas?"

Castiel shrugged. He was dirty, he was cold, he was human, and it was all his own damn fault.

Gabriel turned on the light in the bathroom and gestured to it. "Hey, why don't you warm up with a shower. I'll order us some take-out."

"I don't want to shower." Cas said.

Gabriel smirked. "That sounds like the words of an angel who's never tried a shower."

Castiel glared.

"Come on, it will help you feel better, I promise." Gabriel goaded. "Don't make me force you."

"If you will shut up, I will take a shower." Castiel finally agreed.

Gabriel got the water running for his brother and set the towels out for him before shutting him into the bathroom.

Castiel stood there and stared at the water for a moment before he started to peel off his filthy clothes. He'd never had to remove all of his clothing before, it was tedious. Just as tedious as putting them on, which he had only had to do once in some long forgotten hospital room.

He opened his belt and the fly of his pants, and then found he was stuck with the irritating problem of not being able to get the pants over his shoes. He tried to untie his shoes, but the thin laces were in a knot and his fingers were still too cold to work right. He nearly fell over trying to pry the shoe off his foot before he sat down on the toilet and gave one hearty yank and freed his foot. He was surprised to find a hole in his sock, but yanked it off along with his pants and they joined the rest of his clothes in a pile in the corner.

He almost stepped into the shower before he remembered he still had underwear on. Why did humans need so many layers of clothing? What was the purpose of underwear anyway?

He yanked the sensible white briefs down and kicked them into the pile. He looked down at himself. This simple human body, created from earth and the breath of God. So fragile and easily broken, with all its strange parts that he'd never really bothered with before.

He held onto the curtain and stepped into the tub. The water was very hot and his feet were very cold. This was not a pleasing combination at first, but slowly his feet warmed up and Castiel was able to relax and let the water pour down over his head and shoulders. He hated to admit it, but Gabriel was right, he was feeling better already.

He knew he wasn't supposed to just stand there; he'd watched Dean shower plenty of times, not that Dean knew that. He learned after showing up in the bathroom once at an inappropriate time that Dean didn't like sharing the bathroom with others, and Castiel learned to just watch and wait it out until Dean was out of the shower and covered in a towel.

He looked around the tub and found the tiny wrapped bar of soap. The paper was already wet, and it made it difficult to get out of the wrapper, but Castiel finally had a fresh bar of soap in his hand and he began to rub it on himself like he had seen Dean do.

He rubbed his hand along the stubble on his chin. He supposed he would have to learn to shave now, too. He really wished Dean were here to teach him these things he needed to know. It was clear that that was just not in the cards.

Dean needed Castiel for his strength, his powers and his flight. He had been without power a few times in Dean's presence, and the man had always treated him differently in those cases. If Sam was alive, then Dean would be very busy trying to keep him that way. He didn't need to babysit a fallen angel as well. Castiel would only be in the way, nothing more than an inconvenience. Dean would probably yell at him for what had happened to Heaven. He was beating himself up enough about it, he didn't need Dean to help.

Why did anyone let him out of Purgatory? The entire world was safer with him there, trapped and hunted where he couldn't harm the other planes of existence ever again.

"Hey! You're going to get all pruned if you stay in there much longer!" Gabriel's voice broke him out of his latest round of self-pity. "Dry off! I got some moo goo gai pan on its way!"

Castiel fumbled with the knobs in the shower, freezing himself slightly before figuring out how to turn the shower off, and grabbed a towel. It was rough and scratchy but he swiped it over his body and through his hair before he stepped out into the room beyond.

Gabriel looked up at him. "Whoa, hey! Nice choice for a vessel there, stud, but you might want to put that thing away before you intimidate the hell out of the delivery boy!"

Castiel looked down at himself. Why were human's so offended by their own body parts? He could understand the need to keep warm, but Gabriel had turned on the heater and it was clearly warm enough in the room to forgo the need for clothing.

"I don't have any clean clothes. Human's seem to put on clean clothing after showering." Castiel responded.

Gabriel scoffed. "Please, you hang out with the Winchesters. I've smelled them enough to know they recycle." Gabriel peeked into the bathroom and daintily recovered Castiel's underwear and pants. "Here, at least put these back on for now. You can sleep sky clad for all I care, but I don't want you winking at me while we eat."

Castiel frowned as he put his underwear on and nearly tipped over again. Gabriel retrieved the rest of Castiel's clothing, shook them out, and hung them up in the indentation in the wall that served as a closet. Just as he zipped up his pants, there was a knock at the door.

After paying for the food, Gabriel set it all out on the table and handed Castiel a box and some chopsticks. Opening a box of sweet and sour pork for himself, he sat cross-legged on the bed closest to the bathroom, and dug in, closing his eyes as he took his first bite. "MmMmmM, sweet MSG this is good."

Castiel opened his box and picked at a piece of the chicken inside. He gingerly used the chopsticks to bring the meaty morsel to his mouth. He'd never had to eat for actual sustenance before. He would occasionally eat to maintain looks of normality at diners. Dean always made him try the latest slice of pie he had acquired, and of course, there was that little problem with Famine, but this was new and different; his mouth watered when the flavors hit his tongue, and then the empty pull from his stomach encouraged him to continue to put the food into his mouth.

Before long he had a rhythm going between the food going to his mouth, his mouth chewing it up, swallowing, and then next bite. As he reached the bottom of the small box, he turned to find Gabriel grinning at him and he smiled back. "It's good."

"Well, it's not exactly good for you, but it's good." Gabriel got up to take the empty container from his brother, and then turned to clean up the mess a bit and put the left overs in the mini-fridge. When he turned back around, he found that Castiel had lain back on the bed, and was sound asleep.

Gabriel sighed softly, pulled the blanket free from the edge of the bed, and draped it over Castiel's sleeping form. "You've had a shitty first day being mortal, little brother. Here's hoping you sleep well."

Gabriel turned off the lights, shucked his over shirt, and climbed into the other bed, wondering where in the world Dean and Sam could be, and why his brother didn't want to find them, then gently drifted off to sleep himself.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	2. The Prophet and the Hacker

Sam was unconscious now. They had made it back to the bunker, despite how difficult it was to get a soaking wet Sam into the back seat of the Impala. He had looked like a child again, curled up into a ball in the backseat of the one thing that had been a constant all his life other than Dean. Halfway home he stopped wailing in pain and went frightfully silent. Dean broke every speed law there was to break.

Dean had called Kevin and, in turn, Kevin had called Charlie. The Prophet and the Hacker were standing outside of the Bunker when Dean slid the car to a stop in front of the stairs. It took all three of them to move Sam's limp body from the car to the bedroom that Sam sometimes slept in, draping his long body across the bed. Charlie took charge and pushed both boys towards the door so she could get Sam comfortable.

"Go, Dean." She barked.

"I gotta help him, I gotta do something." Dean's voice was high and filled with anxiety. His hands fisted in his short hair.

"I know, but you can't help him here. Hit the books; find out how we can fix this." She urged. Dean was going to be no good to anyone if she didn't find a way to make him focus.

Kevin touched his elbow, "Maybe we should call Castiel?" He offered.

That brought a whole new pain to Dean's eyes. "You don't think I haven't been calling him since I got in the car?"

Kevin dropped his eyes to the floor. He had felt the angels falling before he had run outside to see them. Each set of burned up wings felt like a string snapping somewhere deep inside him. It was like he could feel the numb pain of each angel, but he could not feel Castiel anywhere.

Charlie shoved them both out of the door. "Well, keep trying. You don't give up after a few busy signals." She shut the door with Kevin and Dean on the other side and turned to clean up Sam.

Dean stormed into the library, kicking shelves and shoving books off tables in an angry, frustrated fit. He sat himself down in front of Sam's laptop and flipped it open.

He opened a search engine and let his fingers hover over the keys before he punched brutally at the keyboard for potential leads. Where do you even start when your brother is dying from trying to close the gates of Hell? Yahoo Answers wasn't really going to be able to sort this out for him.

Kevin started some coffee and then went to the library and sat down across from Dean with a stack of books and a pad of paper and began to flip through them and take notes.

When Charlie finally came back out of the bedroom, Dean was alone in the library, drinking his cold coffee without even looking at it and punching things into the keyboard at random intervals. She took Kevin's seat across from Dean and cleared her throat. The spell over Dean was broken and he looked up at her, and then looked around the room. "Where did Kevin go?"

"I was just about to ask you the same thing." Charlie replied.

Dean shrugged.

Charlie looked over the notes that filled the pad of paper next to the books. "You can go in and see him now. "

Dean sat up straighter in his chair.

"BUT…" she cut him off and her eyes were sharp onto his. "He's still out. Still hasn't come around at all or said anything. I bandaged up his hand, but he's got a raging fever. We're going to need to restock our medical supplies."

Dean frowned. "What kind of medical supplies?"

Charlie fidgeted. "Well, the kind that would sustain someone in a coma, some fever reducers, a bed pan that I am _totally_ not going to be handling or cleaning… that sort of thing."

Dean gave a long sigh and rubbed his face, he couldn't remember the last time he looked away from the screen or even blinked. "How the hell are we going to do that?"

Charlie gave him a wicked grin, "Ever watch 'Firefly'?"

"I think we've been a very bad influence on you, Charlie." He got up without another word and headed in to check on the one thing that meant the most to him.

Dean entered the darkened room where Sam was lying stiffly in the bed. Charlie had the lights low and he was tucked into some warm, heavy blankets. She had washed him up and somehow managed to get his lanky body into fresh bed clothes. Dean walked to the side of the bed and sat down, taking his brother's bandaged hand into his own.

The heat rising off Sam's body could be felt even though the blankets. Dean clenched his teeth and reached up to brush his little brother's freakishly long hair off of his sunken face. He'd never seen Sam look so frail and breakable.

Dean whispered just loud enough for his own ears to hear. "I'm gonna fix this, Sammy. Stick with me, 'kay? You gotta stick with me. I can't do this without you. I never could."

Dean sat there for a few minutes, assessing everything Charlie had done. The dirty clothes were nowhere to be seen in the empty room. Sam had never really claimed any of the rooms in the bunker as his own like Dean had. He had never even chosen just one to sleep in on a regular basis, most of the time falling asleep face down on a table in the library. Dean had been so happy to have a room of his own… a home of his own… that he never noticed Sam's lack of nesting before.

He noticed that there was a pitcher of water and a glass on the nightstand next to the bed. He poured a little of the water into the glass and lifted Sam's head to allow a tiny bit to dribble into his little brother's mouth. The swallow was nothing but reflex, but a little water was better than nothing and it made Dean feel like he helped a little.

Dean was calmly sitting there, holding Sam's hand, when Charlie ran into the room. "Dean, Kevin's back… and you need to see this."

Dean jumped up and was on her heels, lightning fast. They turned the corner out into the Library to see Kevin hauling Crowley into the Bunker on a chain, his hands still bound in sigil covered handcuffs and the chain leading to a warded collar around the King of Hell's neck.

Crowley looked about as happy as a wet cat, but he stopped in his tracks and stood up straight and dignified when he saw Dean. "Hello…" he paused as he saw Charlie standing with Dean and cocked his head, "… boys?"

Dean helped Kevin secure Crowley in their dungeon. Grumbling the entire time about how Kevin should have talked to him about this idea first and how bad of an idea this was. Dean finally decided to take some comfort in the fact that Crowley looked like he was in just as bad of shape as Sam was. Pale, shaking, feverish. Good, the fucker deserved it for what he's put his family through. What he had done to Sam, what he had done to Cas. How had this asshole managed to weasel his way so far into their lives?

He'd torture him. Torture him for every drop of information he could squeeze out of the slimy bastard, then he'd kill him nice and slow, and enjoy every second of it. The dark part of Dean's heart looked forward to it and started dreaming about where he wanted to start. Dean's mouth curled into a vicious smile.

Once Dean triple checked to make sure everything was secure, he went back upstairs to find Kevin and Charlie plotting to rob a hospital. Dean walked past them like they weren't even there and looked for a book in the library that he had seen about demon torture techniques. Not that he needed to know how to torture a demon, oh no, he was a pro at that. He just wanted a game plan on how he was going to do it and needed to read up on how to keep him alive and awake for all of it.

Dean found the book just as the Prophet and the Hacker had agreed on the list of items they would need to steal versus what could be bought, and headed back to Sam's room. Dean crossed the room and sat in the chair on the far side of Sam's bed. He placed the book on his lap, but before he opened it, he checked his phone to see if maybe, just maybe, Cas had called back.

No luck. The hunter leaned his elbows on his knees, folded his hands and dropped his head slightly. "Cas, buddy, I know I don't deserve for you to answer me, but Sammy 'n me, ya see, we could really use your help right now. Hell, I could use the peace of mind of just knowing you're still alive, wings or not."

Dean opened his eyes and looked around the room, sighing heavily when he was still alone with Sam. He leaned back in the chair, tilted the small desk lamp his direction and flipped open the book.


	3. Working Angel

Days had gone by. Castiel was now mostly in sync with his human needs and Gabriel had borne the brunt of the most awkward ones. (Having to show Castiel how toilet paper works when Castiel needed it most is something that they have both sworn never to tell another soul).

They remained at the run down motel for under a week before Castiel grew bored of just existing and insisted they should both get jobs. Gabriel was reluctant, not feeling that Castiel was emotionally up to the human interaction, but Castiel was stubborn.

They put together fake ID's and resumes for Gabe Smith and his step brother, Cassidy. Cas wasn't fond of the name, but Gabriel had shot down "Emmanuel" and "Eddie Moscone" as options when they had decided that "Castiel" was too angelic to fly. (Pun intended).

Two days later, Gabriel flounced into the room and flopped down onto Cas's bed. "Guess which brother of yours got you an interview at Wal-Mart today." He asked with a syrupy sweet tone to his voice.

Cas was seated at the desk with a newspaper, circling potential jobs, he cut his eyes at his brother, "If the things I've heard about Wal-Mart are accurate, I'll guess Lucifer."

"Hey! This job thing was your idea." Gabriel shot back, all sweetness gone. "Don't worry though, I handled everything for you. I told them you were mildly autistic and should work stocking shelves at midnight and not interacting with the public."

Castiel sighed and closed the paper, giving his brother his full attention. "What job are you hoping to get?"

"Greeter! Of course! It's a people watching dream come true." Gabriel chucked a plastic bag at Cas. "Also, I bought you some new underwear. "

Castiel caught the bag and opened the drawer on the desk that had become his. He had two pairs of jeans, 4 t-shirts, 8 pairs of socks and now 5 pairs of fruit of the looms. His black suit and trench coat hung in the closet looking as empty as Castiel felt.

The job interview went well and they were both hired. After two weeks of stocking shelves, Castiel had the routine down perfectly and they have worked it out so that he would get back to the motel room in time to wake Gabriel up in time for his early shift.

Cas would go in late, diligently work all night, walk home sore and sleepy, wake up Gabe and had to listen to him complain about how hard his job is and how he hates getting up early.

More often than not, Castiel has had to chase off Gabriel's latest sexual conquest as well as wake up his brother. They are mostly women, but there have been at least two men that he's tossed out of the motel room with barely a shred of clothing on.

Today was another of those days and Castiel was tired after a long night stocking soda on shelves. His voice was gruff and irritated. "Can you please stop bringing people back to our room?" He asked.

Gabriel rolled out of bed and hopped into some fresh boxers as he headed to the bathroom. "Where am I supposed to bring them?" He answered back as he started to brush his teeth.

Castiel looked over the mess that was supposed to be his bed, which happened to be the bed that Gabriel had just vacated. Why did Gabriel always have to have sex in his bed? His own bed was two feet away. He ran a hand through his dark hair and rubbed his stiff neck. "Why must you bring them anywhere?"

Gabriel spit and rinsed the toothpaste out of his mouth. "Because it's still illegal to have sex in a grocery store. Human's tend to get squicky about you bruising the melons." The former trickster waggled his brows at his brother.

"No, that's not what I mean." Castiel pulled his shirt off over his head and pulled the comforter up onto his bed to cover whatever surprises Gabriel may have left for him there.

"You're suggesting I not bring people back to our room to do the horizontal mamba." Gabriel said, sitting on the end of his own bed to put on his shoes.

"That is precisely what I am suggesting." He growled as he tossed his pants onto his desk and crawled onto his bed, tossing the pillows off onto the floor once he realized they smelled like perfume.

Gabriel finished getting dressed and slapped Castiel on the ass as he walked past the bed. "Don't knock it until you try it. Once you get a taste of it, you'll understand."

Castiel pulled the corner of the comforter up over his head and grumbled.

"Seriously, bro, it's the best part of being human. You should try it, I'm actually pretty shocked you haven't already." Gabriel slammed the door behind him in a flourish and Castiel was thankful for the peace and quiet.

When Castiel came home the very next morning after another long shift, Gabriel had not just one conquest in the room, but two. Castiel knew what headaches were now, and he definitely felt one coming on.

"Gabriel." He growled.

"Wait!" The trickster leapt to his feet with his hands up, trying to calm the wrath of Castiel. "This isn't what it looks like!"

Castiel took a moment to look the three of them over. It definitely didn't look like it usually did. They were all three dressed and that was a new one. The strangers were very pleasing to the eye, a tall broad-shouldered dirty blond man, with honey colored eyes, dressed like he just came home from a swanky club. The other was a slim built female with long red hair, fair skin and a full mouth. She was dressed in a slinky club mini dress that barely hid the important bits. The beds had not been disturbed. They were just sitting there, waiting for him to come home.

Castiel glared, "What does it look like?"

Gabriel came to his side and with a gentle hand to Cas's back, nudged him closer to the pair still sitting on the bed. "I brought you some presents!"

Before Castiel could even process what this meant, Gabriel launched into his sales speech. "You see, I still can't figure out if you prefer men or women, I don't think you've even figured it out, so I brought home one of each so you can try them both and see what you like. Hey! You might even like both! That opens up a whole new realm of fun! I think I've got your 'type' down though… "

As Castiel opened his mouth to protest this ridiculousness, both the man and woman stood up and walked over to him. Gabriel bowed out of the way and Castiel found he was unable to speak. They were both smiling at him as they moved to each side. The woman slinked up against Castiel's side and nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, placing soft kisses along the tendon leading up to his ear. Castiel tried to step away, startled, but the man was there, wrapping his large hands around Cas's waist and leaning in to kiss the back of his neck. Gabriel crossed his arms and smiled.

Castiel felt like his nerves were on fire. He felt like he was suffocating. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on breathing. The hands began to wander over his body, and his body was definitely responding. No one had ever touched him like this. No one ever touched him, period! People didn't just touch angels! He could count on one hand the humans who had reached out to him, the ones who helped him to his feet when he faltered, the one who would reach out and touch him and tell him never to change.

"Dean!" Castiel yelled out and the spell the two had over his body seemed to break. He pushed them both away and backed himself up against the door. "No, this isn't what I want!"

The nameless man and woman stood there before him, confused. Castiel shook his head, trying not to see Dean and Anna standing before him. Knowing that these two were not the beings he had cared so much for, as much as his heart wished they were.

Castiel fumbled for the door knob with a panicked sob and then ran out of the motel room. Gabriel gawked at the door for a bit, before he turned to his hired help. "Oh well, more for me!"

The fight later that afternoon between Castiel and his brother was loud enough for the motel manager to knock on their door and tell them to keep it down or he was calling the cops.

Gabriel's intentions had been good but Castiel made himself very clear that he should never do anything like that again without Castiel's permission first. Immediately, Gabriel asked for permission.

The cops had been called.

It was Castiel's night off, and he was busy tidying up the motel room when his cell phone rang. He could hear it, but he couldn't find it. Gabriel had rebelled so hard against the orderliness of Heaven that he couldn't even keep his room clean; he was going to have to have another conversation with him about the piles of dirty clothes and food containers.

He finally found his phone under a pair of Gabriel's boxers and grimaced before he opened it with a grumpy, "Hello."

It was his manager at Wal-Mart, Simone. "Cas, hey, do you think you could do me a favor and work the day shift tomorrow?"

Castiel made a face and used every social skill he had to keep from hanging up and to ask, "Why?"

"Deb's kids are sick and she can't make it in. We were thin on coverage anyway with Andy out on vacation. Do you think you can do me a solid and cover for her? Just cleaning and sorting. No cashier work." She sounded convincingly needy.

He sighed heavily and wondered if he'd ever not be a sucker for people in need. "Yes, I will cover for her."

"Great!" Simone was nearly jubilant. "I'll see you tomorrow at two o'clock then!"

"Two o'clock." He repeated.

"Thanks again, Cas! I owe you one!" Then she mercifully hung up the phone.

The following day, Gabriel had just come home from his shift as Castiel was leaving to cover for his fellow employee. Castiel watched as Gabriel tossed his clothes off into random corners of the room and then sat down to rip open a bag of chocolates, dumping them on the bed and beginning to open one.

Castiel tried not to notice the muscle under his eye twitching as he left for work.

Once he was at work, it seemed nothing could go right. His human body declared it was time to sleep, no matter what he did to try to convince it otherwise. At first he thought it amusing to count how many times he yawned, but that only depressed him when the numbers started getting too high. He tripped over his own feet twice and slammed his finger between two very heavy boxes and nearly ripped his finger nail off.

He had been stabbed in the heart before and it hadn't hurt as much as his torn fingernail. Humanity definitely deserved Heaven's pity.

Castiel was finished sweeping the current aisle, bending down to tie his shoe. Again. (There had to be a way to tie them without them coming undone constantly) When he heard a child crying on the next aisle over.

He got to his feet and peeked around the corner to see a young blonde girl clinging to her mother's arm, dragging her feet as if she was trying to stop her mother from walking away. "But mooooom! You promised!" The child cried.

Something twinged behind Castiel's ribs. Memories flooded back to him so suddenly that he gasped.

The little girl continued to cry out, louder this time. "Mom! You promised! YOU PROMISED!"

He could hear it in his head now. '_Castiel, you son of a bitch! You promised me my family would be okay. You promised you were gonna take care of them_.'

Castiel reached up and grabbed at his head. Trying to force the memory away, but it pushed forward into his mind, pushing through the walls he'd put up around the pain.

_'I gave you everything you asked me to give. I gave you more._' He could hear Jimmy Novak's voice in his head, hear it as if he was saying it out loud to himself. Did he say it ouloud?

Jimmy. He was long in Heaven, but what about his family? They had never called to him, they had never prayed again after Jimmy left them in that warehouse. Now? Now if they needed him, he would never know. He was useless to them. He was useless.

'_This is the thanks I get? This is what you do? This is your Heaven?_'

The fallen angel reached up and felt the wetness pouring from his eyes. Felt the hitch in his breath as he tried to fill his lungs but his failure to Jimmy's family refused to let him take in air.

The blonde girl and her mother were looking at him, holding each other now. Both of them terrified of the strange crying man in front of them. Trembling and in more emotional pain than he'd ever experienced before, Castiel fell to his knees before them.

"I'm sorry!" He pleaded. "I'm so sorry! Please, forgive me!" His tears dropping to the linoleum floor.

The next thing Castiel remembered was the two large security guards lifting him to his feet and helping him to the back office. His face was still wet, when one of them handed him a paper cup full of water. Castiel drank it down; hoping, somehow, the cool water would sooth the burning pain in his heart.

The store manager came in and nodded to the security guys to leave. He sat down at the tiny desk, it was a tight fit with his large stomach in the way. Castiel noted that the man always reminded him of Zachariah plus 70 lbs. Then he looked up into Castiel's eyes.

"What the hell happened?" Not-Zachariah asked.

"I'm… " Castiel tried to think of how to explain it. How would a mere human understand a promise from an angel? How would he ever understand the importance of keeping that promise? He sunk lower in his chair. "I'm… not feeling well."

The man rolled his eyes, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. Of course Cas wasn't feeling well.

"I've called your brother, he'll be here to take you home soon. Stay here until he comes for you."

Castiel just nodded and looked at the floor as the man stood up and walked out of the room.

Shortly afterwards, he heard Gabriel's voice. He also heard the words "pressed charges" and "fired".

His injured finger just throbbed.


End file.
